Never Enough
by wisher93
Summary: The sound of gunshots is never louder than when you fear for your or your partner's life. OA and Maggie are called to a domestic violence hostage situation and things go well...until they don't. OA learns things aren't always what they seem.
1. Thirty Seconds

AN: Alright, here we go! The first three chapters so far are all written from OA's point of view. This may change, but it's been fun considering most of my other FBI works have been based primarily on Maggie.

This story is going to get a little crazy, but don't give up after chapter two. Also, there is definitely romance between our dynamic duo. It's different from what I've done before, focusing mostly on the characters with just the necessary amount of info about the case to carry the storyline.

I hope you enjoy!

-OA-

The sound of gun shots is never louder than when you truly fear for your or your partner's life. Of course, all situations involving guns or other weapons make you wonder for the slightest moment if you will survive, but all too soon you must push those thoughts from your mind and focus or you really will fail to make it home. But that true fear, the in the moment, caught by surprise weapon fire, is always the worst, always runs the deepest.

This call is no different. We are assisting on a domestic violence hostage call where a man pulled a gun on his wife, four children and nanny. The man didn't know the nanny was just down the hall packing up to leave when he walked in the door and started waving his .45 pistol. The nanny, who called 911 when she discovered what was happening, was overheard by the furious man. He shot her twice and the phone connection was lost.

So, here we stand. No immediate threat to us, but a large threat to the people inside the house. I flash back to the last time we were a part of a similar situation as Maggie stood outside the Kernick residence trying to negotiate. As soon as she saw there were kids in danger, all thoughts of herself and her own life were pushed aside as she charged to the door risking her life for those children. I wonder if we can resolve this quickly and quietly.

I hear the negotiator trying to connect with the man, trying to remind him the people in front of him are counting on him to keep them safe. I think it might be working.

"Look at your children," he says. "Look at how scared they are. Take their fear away. You have the power to do that. You are in charge."

There is a long pause. We are waiting to hear what will happen next. Maggie tenses beside me as suddenly, without warning, another gunshot rings out.

"Go now!" we are commanded through our earpieces. We stand and follow the SWAT in front of us as they break down the door and enter. I wonder if Maggie is also counting the shots as they ring out. One, two, three more shots are fired making six in all. Six bullets. Six lives in the balance.

Time slows to a crawl as we enter the house. From the kitchen I have a clear line of sight to the man who stands in the living room. Cries are ringing out from his children as they sit staring at their mother who is now laying in a pool of her own blood on the floor.

For a moment I wonder how the man is still standing when there are at least seven guns on him, but my brain finally catches up and I see a teenage girl, maybe fifteen being held in front of him like a human shield. It makes me want to vomit seeing the man hold his own daughter that way and it's then I realize this man is too far gone to talk sense into. I think Maggie sees it too as we briefly make eye contact and she steps toward the man.

"Ben, put the gun down," she says to him, her voice cool and collected.

He narrows his eyes at her and the pure hate reflected in my eyes makes me want to grab Maggie and the kids and get them out of there immediately. Of course, that will never work in time. We can't risk any more deaths. Unless it's his.

Maggie shows no reaction to his death glare and stays focused. I'm behind her now, not too close, but my gun is trained on his forehead. Between the two of us, if he shoots one more bullet, he's dead. We all know it. Even him.

For one moment, his eyes flicker between us as if measuring the threat level. His forehead is gleaming with small beads of sweat. He knows he's done. But then in a moment, everything changes.

He pushes the girl in front of him as hard as he can right into Maggie who stumbles as she tries to catch the girl. At the same time his gun shifts to me and he pulls the trigger twice. In the next moments, the world explodes in gunfire and could-have-beens.

The first bullet hits me in the vest. The second time I'm not so lucky. The bullet tears through the side of my forehead. All I feel is pain as it takes me down and warm blood starts to pour from the wound.

Maggie screams my name as she recovers from the weight of the girl. She shoots at Ben as three other guns fire at him in tandem. I see Ben go down. Other armed FBI agents begin grabbing the kids including one who grabs the girl thrown at Maggie to get them out of harms way. Maggie then falls to the ground beside me. My eyes drift to Ben, his eyes open. An agent begins to approach him, but doesn't see his hand as it grasps around his gun. My eyes widen in panic, but I am unable to make a noise. Thankfully, Maggie sees my concern and turns to look. Her gun flies to the Ben, though it's too late. Two more shots rings out as he pulls the trigger. Maggie falls, her blood splattering my shirt and cheek as she hits the ground beside me. Her hands are already clutching her neck where a bullet tore through her skin. And thirty seconds after that first bullet hit my vest, my eyes drift shut and the world fades away.

AN: Please, please review! I'll appreciate it forever!


	2. Something More

AN: I didn't mention this yet, but it might be helpful to know that at the point this story is written, OA and Maggie have been partners for about three years.

A huge thanks to Cris, Mari, jotchLIFE, Dee (so glad you're back!) and the others who reviewed the first chapter. Y'all the best!

OA-

I dream of her. For an unconscious four nights and five days she is constantly there. Sometimes I dream of past conversations or jobs we've done together- both victories and failures shared. Other times I just dream in pieces of her: her eyes, her hair, other parts that swirl around me in color. I don't know why she's always there though sometimes I can't get enough and sometimes I'm desperate for it to stop.

Right before I regain consciousness, I relive the nightmare that happened. I remember that I was shot and that she was shot, too. The pieces of the puzzle start to come together as I realize that's why she wouldn't leave my dreams. I was scared for her.

As my eyes flutter open I realize I'm alone. That's when I begin to suspect what I think I knew all along. Maggie's gone.

I can't comprehend how that could be possible. It can't be true. Surely she's right outside the door on the phone or getting something to eat from the cafeteria or even at her apartment getting rest as she recovers from her wound. Or maybe she is okay, just still recovering down the hall in a room of her own.

I faintly hear an alarm ringing out and realize it's for me, that I haven't been breathing, have been holding my breath. A nurse comes through the door looking worried as I remind myself how to inhale. My breathing is shaky and uncertain. The nurse checks my vitals and shines a light in my eyes. She asks how I'm doing, how I feel, but rather than answer her question I find words that have been buried deep inside for so many days.

"Maggie?" I ask forcefully. "How's Maggie?"

The nurse diverts her eyes, turning to check various machines sitting around me. That's when I'm certain.

"No," I whisper as a shudder creeps through my entire body. "No. No, no, no. Mags! Maggie?"

I'm panicking. My heart is beating too fast and I can't catch my breath. I fight against the wires and tubes holding me down. The pain that ripples from my head is nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

The nurse just looks at me, face full of sympathy and pity. "I'm sorry," she manages before her voice breaks and she's walking out of the room.

Again, it's silent and the silence is too much. Tears are falling and I'm still struggling to breathe. After a few moments the young nurse returns with another. The second nurse takes my hand and just holds it.

"Breathe," she tells me. "Inhale... exhale... good."

The other nurse pushes something into my IV. I welcome the darkness.

XXXXX

When I next wake up, I find I'm not alone. Kristen sits in a chair beside my bed. It's not who I am hoping for, and I can't help but feel disappointed even though it will never be Maggie again. Numbness takes over, and the pure absence of everything is deafening. I know I need to get over it. After all, it's not the first time I've los someone I care about. My time in Iraq and with Special Forces is proof of that. But this time it is so different. I could have helped her, the other agent should have been more careful. She didn't need to die. This time, it was Maggie.

Kristen sees I'm awake and gives a small smile.

"Hey, how you feeling?" she asks.

I don't know how to respond, not sure if I can say the words she's hoping for without giving myself away. So I say nothing, but offer a quick shrug.

"Everyone is so worried about you. It's been six days..." She trails off and I know she is thinking about Maggie. "Jubal was here earlier," she says now making small talk. "We switched places so he can get ready for Friday. We were going to hold off until you woke up, but now things can go as planned..." she drifts off again and this time turns her head to look out the window.

"Friday?" I ask, my voice scratchy and dry. She hands me a glass of water.

"Yeah, thats the day of the funeral. Two days from now."

She's especially quiet now. I look at her in time to see her wipe a tear away. I still have nothing to say, don't know how to comfort when I am broken, too. There's nothing left to say.

A doctor comes in not long after our exchange. He explains what happened to me, how I was shot, how I'm incredibly lucky to be alive after a shot to the head, how I'm luckier still that there appears to be no long term damage. He tells me about the surgery I had to reduce swelling to my brain and how the placement of the shot, a through and through, was in the ideal place.

Then he explains the healing process. How I might experience things significantly more of less vividly than others, that I might have trouble remembering somethings while being hyper focused on others, how my body might not always work as expected. He says I'll need therapy and will need assistance with many things for the next couple weeks. That I'll be out of work for a minimum of six to eight weeks.

He has so much to say but I can hardly stay focused. There are other things on my mind. Finally, before even waiting for him to finish speaking I cut him off and ask what I need to know.

"How did she... die?"

The doctor looks momentarily caught off guard and he verbally stumbles for the right words.

"Well, um, her heart stopped at the scene. She was revived by paramedics and brought here. She didn't make it through surgery. The wound to her neck was too substantial, and she lost too much blood. There was nothing more that could have been done. I'm very sorry."

His words come rushing too fast and, at the same time, not fast enough. I repeat them to myself over and over as if that will help me make sense of them, but it's useless. I don't understand.

_Nothing more they could have done, nothing more they could have done, nothing more they could have done. She didn't make it, she didn't make it, she didn't make it_.

I feel anger start to build. Doubt begins to invade my mind.

"I need to see her. Right now," I spit out.

"OA," Kristen says, surprised by my outburst.

"I'm afraid that impossible," the doctor tells me. "She not here."

I look to Kristen. She nods willing me to understand.

I use one hand to pull the blankets off me, slide my feet and legs off the bed and move to try sitting up. The pain at sitting up pounds at my head and I lay back down haphazardly on the bed.

"Woah, you need to stay in bed," the doctor says.

"I have to see her!" I shout. "I need to see her!"

I try sitting up again and the doctor holds me down. A nurse enters at the commotion and the doctor barks orders at her. Again I'm injected with something.

"I'm sorry, son," I hear the doctor say as my eyes grow heavy. "She's just not here."

XXXXX

The dread of Friday becomes the dread of today. It takes some time, but over the course of the last two days, I was able to start standing and walking short distances on my own. It seems fast, but I guess the faster we can get up and moving, the better.

But I'm always supervised. Never alone. Whether it's Kristen, Jubal, another Agent or occasionally even Dana, someone is always here. It doesn't matter to me. I don't really talk much. I try, but I still can't believe she's gone, don't want to accept it. So I sulk. It feels wrong that Maggie isn't here.

Kristen and Jubal both appear at the door of my room holding a suit and a bag.

"Ready?" Kristen asks sadly as she enters and hangs the suit up in the bathroom.

There's not much to be said, so I just carefully swing my legs off the bed and stand. I walk to the bathroom and Jubal hands me the bag as I walk by. I close the door behind me and begin to change into the clothing they brought. I hear them whispering through the door but don't bother to say anything. I know they're worried. I am too, if I'm honest.

It feels good to be outside in the fresh air as we walk to the sedan. At the same time it feels wrong to enjoy it. Maggie can't.

The ride to he church goes too quickly. I guess that's what happens when you are dreading something so completely.

I walk into the church and am completely disappointed when I realize I still can't see her; the coffin is closed. The last bit of hope I had that I could finally begin to put this behind me is gone. I don't know if I'll ever believe it now. I guess with time.

The service is lovely, and filled with many people who loved Maggie. There's many tears and even some laughs, but I feel nothing. Numb again. I hardly register meeting her family for the first time and I hate that I'm meeting them like this. It's not fair. But I know better than that now. Life is never fair. It laughs in the face of sadness and thrives in the darkness.

I do a good enough job of acting okay that Kristen seems to even believe it. She relaxes a little and both she and Jubal give me more space.

Despite the act, it does feel good to not be so focused on the heartache. I know things will be okay, just never the same. I see all these people sharing stories and grieving together. Maybe there is hope after all.

XXXXX

The weeks that follow are painful in more ways than just physical. I have therapy to make sure I heal correctly and am still overcoming the loss of Maggie. Dana called yesterday about a new partner assignment. Thinking about a new partner seems ridiculous after being partners with Maggie for three years. I can't imagine anyone else. But it's necessary and somewhere inside I know it.

When I went to my doctor visit last week she said two more weeks before I can return. Kristen is ecstatic. She has been a really great friend and I'm thankful for her. She maybe hangs around too much, but it's only because she cares and wants to help. Most days are good and I enjoy her company, enjoy the things we do together. Often Jubal joins us. I think they have a little thing for each other, but I'm not going to mention anything to them about it. It's too hard to talk about.

Other days, like today, I don't answer the phone or the door. I feel like I'm dying all over again and the loss is too much. My phone rings again and I don't need to check to know it's Kristen. I'm just getting the alert that I have yet another voicemail when there's a loud knock on the door.

I sign and roll my eyes, but don't move from my position on the couch.

"Dammit, OA," Kristen says through the door. "If you don't open this door, I'll open it myself. Either way I'm coming in!"

I don't really think she's serious so I keep sitting there, but she knocks again and mutters some more. Finally, seeing now she isn't going to leave, I stand and go to the door. Just as I unlock and open the door, Kristen is braced to knock it down.

"Oh!" she exclaims, stopping her momentum before she crashes into me.

"You we're positioned all wrong. Probably would have broken your collarbone," I say matter a fact.

"Am I supposed to thank you? You should have opened the door right away. Jerk move, not answering my calls. I was worried." Her brow is furrowed and I can tell she's pissed. But suddenly the look fades from her face and she throws her as around me with a sigh. "I'm just glad you're okay."

I still don't know what to say. How to I tell her how I feel? I hope I won't have to explain, but of course she asks.

"You ignored my calls for three days. Why?" I can tell she just wants to understand.

I shrug, hiding my surprise. Three days? Really?

"Talk to me." Her voice is soft and for a minute I think about Maggie, how she once told me so long ago we had to be honest with each other with the same pleading evident in her voice. We had come such a long way since then.

So, I skim the surface and hope it's enough. "Some days I can't breathe. It's too much."

She looks at me then like she understands something I do not.

"What?" I ask.

She just smiles sadly and looks at me. Then she shakes her head."You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" I respond almost annoyed.

"How much you cared about her. How much you still do," she finishes with a heavy stare.

"Of course I care. She is-was- my partner," I say defensively.

She stares at me a few seconds longer before turning around to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. I hardly heard her as she left the room.

"That's not what I meant. And I think you know it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I shout. I'm surprised I'm actually angry.

She, of course, takes it in stride. "OA, it's no secret you and Maggie got really close and rightfully so. That's what happens when you're partners with someone, when you have to trust someone with your life ever day. But maybe there was something more."

I can tell now she's not making accusations, she's not trying to place any blame, just trying to point out something that maybe should have been more obvious. Is she right? Maybe. I sit then, on the couch, thinking. I don't realize she's eyeing me from the kitchen until I look back up at her.

"I can't do this now," I say defeated, officially ending the conversation.

She walks back, handing me water as she sits on the other end of the couch. "Okay, but I'm here if you wanna talk."

I nod and turn my attention back to the TV.

XXXXX

I wake the next morning still on the couch. Kristen left around 10:00 and I hadn't felt like moving. Now that I'm up, I want to go for a run. I've been cleared, finally, for light physical activity and slow running makes the list. I change into workout clothes and head out. I don't really pay attention where I'm running, just so thankful I can get back to it.

Suddenly I come to a dead stop. I'm in front of Maggie's apartment, the path I took so many mornings as I ran to her building to meet up so we could run together. I'm caught off guard and have to sit down for a few minutes because I'm dizzy.

I tell myself I was just running too fast, that I need to slow down, but I'm not convinced it's the truth. I hear Kristen's words from last night as they fly back to the forefront of my mind. _Something more_. I shake my head as if to remove the thought and stand again. I turn in a new direction and head for a coffee place a few blocks down now needing a distraction.

While waiting for my ordered coffee, I turn to see a couple, wrinkled and gray but clearly still in love, enjoying their coffee together. On my way out, deink forgotten, I let myself admit for the first time that Kristen was right. There is something more. Was something more. That's when I lose it, right there in the middle of the street. I just stand there and sob.

AN: The next chapter is, well, I guess you'll see. But it's going to be good, so don't stop reading here! Please let me know what you think!


	3. Stay

AN: Alright, I feel like I need to give some warnings, but I can't do that without giving anything away. So, warnings. Nothing I extreme, but strong suggestions and implications. Proceed with caution. And yes, maybe things are a little ooc, but I warned this would happen. Enjoy!

Also, Doranwen, this chapter is probably not for you, but thanks for the two spots to fix! I read it over more than once and somehow still missed it. Thanks!

OA-

I breathe in a sigh of relief as I shut the door to my apartment. It has been a long day, a long case, and it didn't end as well as I'd hoped it would. I still am getting used to not having Maggie as a partner. It's been three months and it still feels like yesterday.

I set my gun down on the end table near the couch with my keys and wallet and head to the bedroom so I can shower. I'm just reaching the hallway when I hear a noise behind me. I whirl around and grab at my waist before remembering I left my weapon by the door.

I hear a strange noise and realize it came from me. I'm not sure if it was anguish, joy, or confusion, but most likely it was a mix of all three.

She's just sitting there in the darkened room, on a chair in the corner. I'm afraid to move, afraid she'll disappear before my eyes. But then I hear her voice and know she's real.

"Hi," she nearly whispers.

Then she's up, moving toward me, and I'm moving toward her. Our bodies collide as I wrap my arms around her, smashing her to me as if to make sure she's really there. Her arms wrap around me too, and her head is buried in my neck.

"I missed you," she says softly. Feeling her breath on my neck makes me shiver.

"I thought you were-," but trail off unable to say it out loud.

"I know. I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you but I couldn't. Everyone is supposed to think I am dead. And then I was overseas. I shouldn't be here now. I'ts risky, but I got back to New York last night and have 24 hours before I'm needed. I couldn't stay away. I needed to see you." By the end she's whispering, hardly audible.

I pull away again to look at her and one of my hands comes up to capture her cheek. "I went to your funeral," is all I can manage before tears are in my eyes. "I couldn't believe it. They wouldn't let me see you when I woke up. It was never real."

She's looking at me so intensely that I feel my stomach tighten.

"And then, I realized what I missed out on. What _we_ missed out on." My thumb brushes her cheek and I see a soft blush start to form. I look away from her, not sure if I should be saying this out loud. We've shared very personal things before, in our three years together, though it took a long time before we did and it was never like this. But she grabs my face and turns it gently so I'm looking at her again.

"I was so scared when you went down. I should have checked to make sure Ben was down, but I thought the other agent had him. I was sure you were dead. You're head... I was sure you were gone too. And when I found out you survived, I thought they were lying to me to get me to help them." She closes her eyes as if to push away the terrible memory.

She leans forward and I can't help but press my lips to her forehead. They sit there for a moment, but then Maggie is pulling away. I wonder if I made a mistake but then she's wrapping her arms around my neck.

"I thought I lost you," she says. "Then I had to leave and didn't have time to think about anything but the job, though you were always in the back of my mind. Now I'm here, and I don't know how to walk away, don't know if I want to."

Her confession is huge and risky, but is everything I needed to hear, wanted to hear.

"Then don't," I tell her, silently pleading. I don't know if I can watch her walk away now.

Something changes in her eyes. They get darker and her arms tighten around my neck. "I have fourteen hours left. I want to stay, want to spend them with you."

"Then stay." I hardly have time to get the words out before she's pulling me closer. Our lips meet in a needy battle. She tastes so good, and I'm having a hard time believing this is real. Fifteen minutes ago I thought she was dead and now...

We break apart only to take a breath, our hunger for each other only growing. Our foreheads rest against then other's, and I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"When I close my eyes, I see you on the ground, blood everywhere, and I think I'm going to lose you all over again. I don't want to see that anymore," she says.

I kiss her again, kiss away the pain, and she deepens the kiss. She runs her tongue along my lip and I open my mouth to give her access. I need her even closer, not quite able to believe this is happening. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around my waist.

I feel her then, working on my tie. She pulls it from around my neck and drops it to the ground before working on the buttons at the top of my shirt. My hands slip under the hem of her shirt and her skin is so soft on my fingers.

She pulls away for a moment to whisper in my ear. "If you don't put me down, I won't be able to get this shirt off you." Then her teeth skim the line of my ear and I shiver. She lets out a mix between a growl and a laugh.

She's back on the floor in seconds and we stumble into the wall. My shirt drops to the ground and her hands run from my waist, over my stomach and up to my neck. Her eyes are hungry as they follow her hands. Then her hands go up over her head, and she waits for me to pull her shirt off.

As I throw it to the floor somewhere behind us, we collide again in a mess of limbs and kisses and roaming hands. Suddenly I bend down slipping an arm behind her knees and the other behind her back and pick her up bridal style. I carry her down the hall to my room.

I sort of dump her onto my bed and she giggles, of all things. I have Agent Maggie Bell half naked and giggling. That's something I never expected, never dreamed of, but now I don't see anything else ever being enough. I have to say, reality is significantly better than than any dream could ever be.

She scoots up the bed a little and I grab her ankles and pull her back down. She smiles at me and squeals. I crawl down on the bed above her. She lightly grabs my chin and pulls me down until our lips meet. She starts fumbling with my belt buckle. I grab her hands in mine for a moment. She looks at me, frowning.

"I just need to know if you're sure. Have you thought about this, what it would mean?"

As much as I would hate to stop, it would be far better than continuing and having her regret this.

Her hand comes up to caress my cheek. "OA, I've been thinking about this for three months. Longer if I'm honest. Yes, I'm sure."

And then she kisses me with more passion that I've experienced all night. These thirteen hours and twenty seven minutes have to matter. We have to make them count.

AN: So, what did you think? I know it's a lot, but it was super fun to write and I'm really happy to say Maggie is fine(: I'm not completely sold on the two getting together on the show. I feel like they are great just as friends too, but I like the challenge of writing both. Also, I have some people out there begging for a little something, something. Hope this is what you were looking for.

The next chapter is going to get a little intense as the story begins to unfold and it will only go up from there. Stay tuned!

Special thanks to Cris, Mari, Kensi jj, judithya88, Whiz, Doranwen, LizzieSunnie, and the other guest who reviewed last chapter. Your support is wonderful!


	4. Gotcha

AN: I am so sorry for the hiatus. Things have been crazy and hard, and I haven't really been feeling the story for some reason. It's a long chapter and is really important for the rest of the story. Maggie and OA have to deal with the next steps and the rest of the story is set up. Hopefully this chapter does the story justice and you enjoy it.

OA-

It's not the sun that wakes me the next morning, but the weight in the bed next to me. It's been awhile, and it feels good. It feels even better when it's Maggie who turns in bed beside me to look at me. I thought maybe it was all a dream, everything that happened far to surreal to believe. But seeing her here next to me, touching her face, holding her hand is everything I need to know this was no dream. Maggie is alive. And she's here. With _me_.

To be honest, I am worried things will be a little awkward, but then she smiles a perfect Maggie smile and know things are fine.

"Morning," she says, blushing a little.

"Morning to you," I respond as I lean down and give her a peck.

Her blush deepens and I trace it on her cheeks with my thumb.

She looks at her watch, sits up and sighs.

"How much time?" I don't want to hear the answer, but have to know.

"Two hours, give or take."

I nod. It's not long, but it's enough. It has to be.

"I know you can't tell me what your working on, especially if we are supposed to think you are dead, but are you safe?"

"I knew you'd ask. I've been trying to figure out what to say. This guy, he is dangerous and scary good. The group was partially responsible for the bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993 and many attacks around the world since. But, I'm being as careful as I can. It's taking a long time, but I think he finally trusts me. That's partially why I was able to sneak away. But I have to be back by eight."

I nod, feeling useless. There's nothing I can do to help her, to keep her safe.

"The worst part about this is I'll never know how you're doing. You're not wearing a wire, you don't have backup. I don't like it."

She smiles. "I know. Me either. But I have to do this. It's really important. This guy, he hurts so many people. I can stop him."

I get out of bed and walk to my closet. I move some items of clothing out of the way to reveal a safe, open it, and grab two small devices. Then I take one to Maggie and put it in her hand.

"A phone?"

"A secure phone. Untraceable, undetectable. Except to this one, mine. Just in case, okay?"

She's looking at me strangely. "What?" I ask.

"Where'd you get these?"

"My time in Special Forces. I kept them thinking they would some day come in handy. Now I'm glad I did."

Her hand covers mine where it rests on the bed. I flip mine over and entwine my fingers with hers.

"I won't need it," she says finally. "Everything will be fine."

"Mags, promise me you'll use it if you need to. I don't care where you are, or what happened. I will come for you. I promise I will." I just stare at her until she gives in.

"Thank you," she whispers. Then she leans in and wraps her arms around me.

I hold her as minutes pass by, hating the sound of the ticking clock on the wall that reminds us of how little time we have. Finally she sits back, brushes my cheek with her hand, and says she needs to get ready.

"I'll make coffee," I say as I stand and head for the kitchen.

A minute later I hear the sound of the shower as I start the coffee maker. I don't know what else to do while I wait,

Unwilling to let my dangerous thoughts take me down an impossible path. So, I make breakfast. Omelettes.

I plate the second omelette as I hear her feet lightly padding down the hallway. She is towel drying her long, brown hair as she appears in the kitchen.

"Mmmm," she smiles. "Smells amazing."

"Oh, don't sound so surprised," I mutter, feigning disappointment and frustration.

I hand her a plate and a steaming mug. She lifts the coffee to her nose and inhales deeply.

"I missed this. The coffee I've had the last three months is worst that the JOC." She pauses with a cringe. "I miss the JOC. How's the team?"

"They miss _you._ Everything feels different," I say. "Kristen especially. She still talks about you all the time."

Maggie looks up as she takes the first bite.

"It will be weird to not say anything. But I won't, of course. Nothing to put you in danger."

She halfway smiles. "I'll see them again. Soon." I'm not sure if she says it more for my benefit or hers.

We finish our breakfast talking about lighter things, but her situation never leaves my mind. All too soon she stands and puts on her jacket that she found still laying on the floor in the living room. Oops.

I stand, not really sure what to do or say. How can I sum up everything I'm feeling.

"Come back to me, okay?" I finally spit out.

"Okay," she replies.

"Promise me," I want to say, but we both know she can't so I stay quiet. She must sense my hesitancy and unsaid words because she smiles, puts her hands on my chest and leans up to give me a kiss. Immediately, my arms go around her, holding her tight. The kiss deepens but only for a moment before she is pulling away.

"I have to go," she says sadly.

Then she's gone. And she's taken a piece of me with her. I don't know when Maggie managed to work her way into my heart, but now I understand how foolish I was for not seeing it sooner. I almost lost her once and now I might lose her again. All I can do is wait. Wait and pray she makes it home.

What I don't know is that there is a man waiting across the street for Maggie to reappear from my apartment building. A man who followed her here last night because his boss, the one Maggie is trying to get close to, wanted to make sure she was trustworthy. What I don't know is that man is going to put everything on the line.

Maggie doesn't know either.

Mitchell-

I spend all night outside the apartment building waiting for our newest recruit, Maggie Samson, to reappear, and can't quite figure out what is here for her. It's not until just after 7 a.m. that she pushes open the front door and makes her way down the steps to the street.

Last night I got the list of names, first initial and last, from the list of each individual apartment used to be buzzed in. After I make sure Maggie goes directly to Ahmad I'll find out who these people are and see if there is any reason to be suspicious. It helps that the tracker that Anna sewed into her jacket narrows down the number of apartments she could have been in. So far Maggie's actions and words have done nothing but impressed the boss, but we can never be too careful.

I watch Maggie get into a cab and take off in the direction of the abandoned factory where we are meeting up with a supplier. I guess it's time to figure out what Maggie was up to. Let's see if she was honest about her 'little problem' she needed to fix.

Maggie-

By the time I arrive at the factory, pay the cab driver, and get inside the warehouse, I have fifteen minutes to spare. That's good, because on time is late for these guys. Abdul Ahmad, the man I work for is standing with three others off the side discussing something quietly.

"Maggie," he says as I approach. "I trust you took care of your problem?" he asks in reference to the night I had away.

"Yes, I don't believe I'll have any more issues with them." I narrow my eyes slightly and smile giving the impression my problem is no longer alive. The only issue is that my 'problem' is more alive than ever and at the forefront of my mind. I spend the next few minutes gathering my attention and reminding myself of the job at hand forcing me to safely tuck OA into the back of my mind in order to prevent distraction. I can't afford to be off my game with my life on the line.

Our suppliers are almost ten minutes late by the time they arrive, headlights shining through the high windows lining the top of the warehouse. Ahmad calls us all to come ahead to approach first. He will follow behind with his right hand man, Shallah, who will make the payment when directed.

I don't know all the specifics and details of what Ahmad is buying, but I know it's serious business with a payday of over ten million US dollars. I need to find out without drawing suspicion. Part of the buy is for guns. I was brought in as a gun expert with years of experience in gun smuggling and trade after one of Ahmad's two weapon specialists was killed. Up until now I haven't done much as I earn trust and work my way up, so I'm surprised when I hear my name being yelled across the warehouse.

Ahmad asks me to check the authenticity of some weapons. As I approach I am surprised to see the case is full of M4 Carbines which is similar to the M16 Rifle. It packs a whole lot of firepower and can unleash nearly one thousand rounds per minute with a range of five hundred meters. And they're portable making them sought after weapons to any soldiers or terrorists.

There must be nearly fifty here. Bad news for anyone who tries to stand up to Ahmad. Bad news for me. I look over the weapons which seem to be in perfect condition and report back to Ahmad. He beckons for me to come to another set of boxes.

"And these?" he asks.

Two of the suppliers pull off the lid of a box Ahmad points out. I walk over and take one out of the case. I momentarily freeze, but do my best to hide my surprise as I realize what I'm holding. These guns have an American made technology called TrackingPoint which means it is basically a normal rifle turned into a smart rifle. The technology allows for even the most untrained soldier to make a nearly perfect and calculated shot. Basically, it turns anyone into a professional sniper. All human error in aim, timing, and body movement is essentially eliminated. These weapons are insane and are now in the hands of a terrorist group with only terrible intentions. Really not good.

I give the all clear and Ahmad is pleased.

The exchange is made after Ahmad's other gun specialist checks some other crates. At his nod of approval, Shallah takes out a phone and deposits the millions into our suppliers' account. They smile greedily at each other, Ahmad shakes hands, and they all turn and head back to their vehicles.

I climb in the vehicle with the same men I arrived with and, apart from some sideways lustful glances, the ride to the airport is uneventful. I knew we were returning to Saudi Arabia, but was hoping it wouldn't be so soon. From what I gather, there is not much time before the next planned attack and there much to do in preparation. With these weapons, I'm not sure what more needs to be prepared.

I can make out about a third of the conversation during the drive. I can speak enough Arabic to make this work, and my language skills are quickly improving though I can't always keep up with how fast the native speakers are. It doesn't help that German and Farsi are also being spoke in our vehicle alone with the eight passengers. I'm not the only person here who isn't a native Arabic speaker and not the only Caucasian or American. And thanks to my cover, I was impressive enough for the group to accept me fairly quickly despite not being completely fluent. I guess it doesn't really matter as long as you are a strong enough, vicious enough supporter. Thanks to a couple of undercovers in supporting groups, they were able to start talking about me and spreading the word before I arrived going back a couple months before they knew who would be filling the role, months before I was shot and then recruited. It's also helpful that a majority of them speak some English, especially when a couple are among the the higher ups.

The man next to me, Hamad, puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes. It's not the first time he's done something like this and he's not the only one. I elbow him hard enough in the gut that he yelps and the rest of the men in the van laugh. I warn him to keep his hands to himself or he'll lose an appendage. The others laugh again while Hamad scowls, but he keeps his hands to himself the rest of the journey.

As we arrive at the airport, things start to move quickly, and I find I'm feeling small and lost at the organized hustle and bustle around me. I don't know how we are getting on a plane with our new possessions so easily and unchecked, but it's off putting for sure. The thought that this many incredibly dangerous weapons leaving the U.S. without so much as a second glance is a devastating issue in and of itself.

Ahmad is, of course, increasing pleases as we get closer and closer to departure. He is making calls to others left in Saudi Arabia as plans become a reality. I still have no idea what the next target is, but hear American Embassy and cringe. I can't make out any more details without getting closer so I start to carefully and casually make my way within earshot; however, a car approaches quickly and attention is back on me. I head off in the other direction, picking up a nearby box as I go, to a group of our men who are loading boxes onto the plane.

I watch as Mitchell, an annoying member of the group, nearly fall out of his vehicle as he rushes to Ahmad. Mitchell is also American, but his parents were accidentally killed when he was a young child by a U.S. soldier when they got caught in the crossfire. It didn't take him long to join the group that gave him a 'family.'

He is talking quietly and way too quickly for me to even dream of catching any part of the conversation and I have no option but to keep walking toward the plane with my box. As I load it, I turn back in the direction of the boxes closer to Ahmad and Mitchell hoping to catch part of the conversation when suddenly both Ahmad and Mitchell look directly at me and hold eye contact for a moment too long.

I know it could be nothing, but I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Still, I have to act normal so I grab another box and continue to help loading. The two both look away and the conversation ends. Ahmad goes back to his business and I realize maybe I was being too paranoid. At least, I hope that's all it was.

It doesn't take much longer to get all the guns and other materials on the plane, and we prepare for takeoff. With everyone sitting and ready for departure and Ahmad laughing with a few of his most trusted followers, I start to relax. Now I have to try to figure out what the plan is and see if I can get out a warning of the attack.

I spend most of the flight listening, working hard to interpret the conversations around me. I can feel the excitement in the air, but don't learn much about the actual attack. I wonder if anyone really knows the details.

This is by far the longest flight I've been on apart from the one that first brought me to Africa and the one that brought our group to New York. We are about 15 hours into the 20 hour trip when I feel a shift in the atmosphere of the group. Many of the people on board are asleep, but when I look up, Ahmad is staring at me directly. I automatically reach behind me and I look away as I brush my hand along the back on my jacket. When I feel the hard, smooth surface of the phone OA gave me, I unconsciously let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. I'm thankful for the secret pocket put in before it was given to me by the CIA that made the perfect hiding spot.

I pull it out, careful to keep it well hidden and send a three word warning before sliding it back into the secret pocket.

While I don't make eye contact with Ahmad again directly, I can feel his stare which doesn't falter. It's uncomfortable and my mind and heart begin to race as I am, again, filled with doubt. I can't help but wonder if I have been made.

Minutes pass feeling like hours before Ahmad stands. I do my best to stay calm as he makes his way toward me. I fear I am truly in trouble as he stops next to my seat, and I am forced to look at him no longer able to pretend I don't notice his malicious stare.

I am about to say something when words that crush me come flying out of his mouth.

"Who is Omar Zidan?"

"Excuse me?" I squawk, more than likely not hiding my shock at his question.

"Omar Zidan. You were with him, weren't you?" His voice is accusatory, and his face stone cold.

I feel many eyes on us now and see Mitchell smiling coldly at me.

"Mitchell followed you to his apartment building last night. It was his name that first caught his attention. Omar Adom Zidan. Possibly from another group, maybe you were trying to spy for them. So Mitchell followed him to find out, but was led right the the FBI! How do you explain that?" He's messing with me now. I can tell he already knows and is just waiting for me to lie. So I don't.

Instead I take a deep breath, narrow my eyes, and say, "I think know who he is. And I think you know who I am. And I think you're scared." I am pleased with how unwavering and collected my voice sounds.

Ahmad reaches out and grabs me by the hair, yanks me out of my seat and nearly drags me to the front of the cabin. There he forces me on my knees in front of Mitchell and a few other men.

"Gotcha, bitch," Mitchell spits at me as he raises a gun from his side. I wonder why he dislikes me so much- he has since I first arrived, but that thought quickly fades to another: it's all over. I'm about to die. But he instead settles for slamming the gun into the top of my head.

The last thing I hear is Ahmad, Mitchell and a few

other men laughing. My last thought is a prayer that they don't find the phone and, of course, the one who gave it to me.

_'OA...'_

AN: So, it's not looking so good for Maggie. I'll try to update again by Friday, but I have nothing written or drafted yet. I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you think anything is missing or if it's confusing!

Shout outs to jotchLIFE, Doranwen, Kensi jj, Cris, judithya88, Mari, Whiz, Dee, Lili, the guests who commented. You guys make my day every time! Seriously! Hopefully this long chapter makes up for the delay. Thanks for sticking with me!


	5. Folder Closet Pineapple

AN: I didn't do much editing this chapter, because I don't have much time and still wanted to get a chapter to you. Thank you so, so much for your reviews last chapter: LizzieSunnie, Bilba0691, jotchLIFE, Kensi jj, Leona, Cris, Whiz, Say8486, and Klarolin M! I hope you enjoy. I'm not sold on the chapter, but it was hard to write and I'm satisfied. I hope you are, too! I'll have another chapter up this coming weekend and after this week, I should have a little more time to write so chapters will hopefully come more frequently. I'm guessing there will be three more, but am not sure. Enjoy!

Maggie-

The dull ache that covers my body is nothing compared to the pain in my head. When I open my eyes, I'm surprised to discover I'm bound to a chair in the basement of one of the safe houses used by Ahmad. I haven't been down here much in my three months undercover, but it's been enough that know it never ends well for the one sitting in my position.

Each one of my arms is resting on an arm of the chair, tied at the wrist. Both legs are similarly bound by the ankle to the front chair legs. There is a rope around my waist keeping me flat against the back of the chair. Being tied this way draws my attention to the lump in my back. I am so relieved that I still have my jacket on and the phone is still in place. They didn't find it! If I can't get to it, if I can use it, OA will know what to do.

The ropes are tight, and I'm not going anywhere on my own. I know that, but still can't help fighting against the restraints. I struggle so hard my wrists are raw and I'm sweating when I hear the commanding voice of Ahmad coming from outside the room. I know I shouldn't be scared, that I should have enough training and experience to keep me calm, but I am absolutely terrified. While I do everything in my power to look unfazed as the door swings open, inside I am a wreck. I have no idea what to expect and no plan to get out of this.

"Tell me who you are," he demands, some spit hitting my face in his anger.

"You know who I am." I say. "What more do you want to know.

"Then how do you know him?" he says, now furious. He flings a picture of OA onto the ground at my feet. I stare at the picture taking in every part of him.

"You can't help who you fall for," I spit back, though take aback by my words.

Ahmad just looks at me, also clearly surprised. He wasn't expecting this confession, and neither was I. I see now that I just found my angle, my only chance.

"What?" he asks.

"You heard me. I love him. You don't choose who you fall for. I didn't realize what he did before it was too late. He doesn't know what I do, so unless that idiot, Michael, told him, we should be in the clear. Now, is all this necessary?" I ask gesturing to my restrains.

He's looking at me curiously and the fact he's still listening at all is a miracle in itself. I really don't know what more to say so I just wait.

"You must think I'm an idiot," he says suddenly as he starts to laugh evilly. "I really am disappointed, Maggie."

He starts to turn away; I know it's over.

"Wait," I plead.

He turns back around to look at me. I know then there's only one way I'm getting out of this and it will be extremely risky.

"Call Arif."

The way he looks at me then, with intrigue and wonder, tells me I'm going to live... for now.

"You really think that's the best idea? A polygraph?"

"I want to prove to you that I am serious about our cause, that I'm being honest with you," I explain.

He nods, motioning to a guard I've seen before, but don't know by name. The guard leaves and Ahmad follows him out.

They close the door behind them leaving me alone with only my thoughts for company. I know the questions I will be asked will be nearly impossible to answer truthfully so I will need to rely on what I know about lie detectors. I need to have every answer preplanned, rehearsed and believable to even me. I need to fool myself. It's possible that I can get out of this on my own, but it's even more likely that my lies will be flagged and I'll be killed. Probably very publicly, and probably very painfully.

Frustration courses through me as I try, again, to release myself so I can get to my phone, but the ropes are too tight. I need to get another message to OA, but the first one will have to be enough. I just hope he understands what it means and can figure it out in time. He's a twenty hour flight away from me. Anything can happen in twenty hours. Hurry, OA. If I can't get myself out of this, I'm going to need you.

OA-

It's a text at 5:03 am the next morning that wakes me. I almost don't answer it, but something tells me to look. Surprise and fear course through my entire body when I see it's from the encrypted phone I gave to Maggie.

Then I see the message and I can't help but feel extremely confused in my half asleep state.

'Folder closet pineapple." I don't understand it. I almost wonder if it was an accident, hope it was an accident, but I know inside it wasn't. So, I flip the bedside light on, climb out of bed, and head down the hall to start a pot of coffee. I'll need a little something to help me figure this out.

As the pot is brewing, I start to put the pieces together, writing a few of my thoughts down on a notepad in the form of haphazard words and phrases. I have to assume there is a folder I need to find. My guess is it's in her apartment in a closet which would explain the first two words. But pineapple? What the hell does that mean?

I leave my apartment headed for hers ready to find out what this is about, hoping there are answers waiting for me. It takes only fifteen minutes to get to her apartment. I keep the key she gave me held tightly in my hand as I scale the steps and reach the door to her apartment. I'll never forget the conversation we had when she gave it to me about three years ago.

_"Hey Mags. What's up?" I asked questioning why she was perched at my desk as I arrived, noting she looked a little worried._

_"I was just thinking, if something happens to me, someone should probably have a key to my apartment. Can I trust you not to lose it?" I realized, as she emphasized the 'you,' that she wasn't worried, she was hesitant, almost doubting herself though she was trying to hide it inside a joke. _

_It was easy to smile and say yes. I noticed she relaxed almost immediately, smiling the way I loved: genuine, kind and warm. It was amazing that she was even asking. As close as we had come in the first eighteen months of working together, she stayed a fairly private person, not talking much about her feelings or her personal life unless it came it was on a case or I brought it up._

_"I mean, I guess to be fair you can have mine, too, but don't get a big head about it," I teased as I grabbed my spare from my work drawer and handed it to her. She smiled again, even at my teasing._

_"Shut up, jerk," she said as she rolled her eyes, but she took the key anyway and put it on her key ring with her own._

That seemed like both yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time. It's funny how some events are like that. Others come and go as easily as the rising and setting of the sun, not to stand out or be remembered. Any time with Maggie deserves to be remembered, even the hard moments, the fights, the doubts.

I open the door to her apartment and sigh. It feels weird being here when she's not. I walk to the closet and slide it open. There's not much here. A few jackets are hanging, some shoes laid out neatly on the floor, a couple boxes on the floor and two shoe boxes on the top shelf. I open the boxes just to look for the magical folder, but don't find one. I close the door again and walk down the hall toward her bedroom.

I pause outside the door. It might feel weird to be in her apartment without her, but going into her bedroom and snooping around is even more so. It feels wrong. But I have to trust my gut, I have to see if there is something here for me to find.

I open the closet and am a bit surprised at all the clothes that are seemingly just pushed in anywhere they could fit. Maggie, who is so neat on the outside, so put together. Isn't always so organized. It almost makes her feel more real, more normal, if that makes sense. It makes me love her more that at home she feels comfortable and relaxed like this. Even if only in a closet.

There's nothing here. This is the only other closet. I can't help but be disappointed. Now what? I'm about to give up, to try somewhere else when the floor creaks below my foot. Of course. She wouldn't just leave sensitive information out in the open. Not even in her own apartment.

I drop to the floor and, sure enough, the hardwood floor gives a little under the pressure of my hand pushing against it. I force down on one end of the small board and it lifts the other end up just enough for me to grab it and pull it up. There, under the board, is a Manila envelope and a file. I grab them and sit on the floor, carefully opening the file and spreading the contents across the floor. It's full of papers, articles, classified documents about what I assume is her current mission. I read about a drug smuggler with the name of Ahmad who made it big about ten years ago when he started smuggling US weapons and selling them to the highest black market bidder. He has left a trail of bombings, killing sprees and devastation behind him ever sense as he takes out his enemies, threats, and people who turn against him.

_This_ is who Maggie is with right now? Now I'm more worried than ever. Why did she send me looking for this? What is pineapple? I still don't understand that.

I turn my attention back to the envelope and slide out the contents. On the top is a letter. Addressed to me. I'm not exactly sure what to make of that.

I open the letter carefully, as if damaging the paper will somehow damage Maggie and her chances of survival in all this. As I unfold the paper, the familiar writing makes me miss her more than ever. It is dated just over three months ago. I wonder how she got it here. Surely the CIA would never have allowed her to leave all this here for me to find. Maybe that's why it's so well hidden.

_'OA, _

_If this letter find you, or more accurately, you find this letter it's probable that one of two things has happened. Either I have died for real, o__r you stumbled upon the hiding spot. Regardless, let me explain._

_When I was shot, I was taken to the hospital where I had surgery and somehow recovered. Doctors call it a miracle, but I'm not so sure. It's hard to think there's good in this sometimes when I think of what I'm leaving behind. The CIA approached me as soon as I was conscious with a mission they needed me to go on. I spent time learning about the mission and, after seeing the hundreds of victims and their families, I couldn't say no. _

_I was so worried about you, but I was assured you were fine, that you had survived. I was told I needed to be dead so that no one would love for me, and that if it was ever found out I am not who I say, there was nothing connecting me to the FBI to put me in more danger. Or you. I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you. I wanted to, and almost did so many times. But I couldn't put you or the mission in danger. I hope you understand._

_If for some reason, I have sent you here to find this, I may have used the code word pineapple. If I do, that means I am in extreme danger. I hope I never have to use that, but if I do, know I will completely understand if you don't or can't come for me. You don't owe me anything, not after the lies of my faked death and not at the risk of your life._

_On the chance you do come, here are the specifics that will help you find me._

_1\. I am working for a man named Abdul Ahmad. I've included information on him and his terrorist cell in the file._

_2\. We are working out of Saudi Arabia, in a city called Dammam on the coast of the Persian Gulf. I've included some addresses of safe houses and other locations that the CIA knows about. _

_3\. I am undercover as a weapon specialist who will identify and track the weapons he sells._

_4\. The goal is to get enough tangible evidence and to find his sources and buyers so we can bust them all and take down the whole ring. It's big and complicated so it will take time._

_5\. While I will never admit it to the CIA, I am absolutely terrified. I wish I could talk to you about it. You are a wonderful partner, and I miss you already. It should be you, here. Only because you'd do it so much better than I. _

_6\. Part of this mission is that if things go south, the CIA can't do much to help me. They will if they can, but they can't put the future of the mission in jeopardy. Unless they find out I'm CIA, there's not much they will do so they can try again with another agent. It's not their fault._

_I'm so, so sorry. I hope I don't you down._

_Maggie_

I can't stop scanning the page over and over hoping I've made a mistake. Danger? I have to get there now. I have to get to her before something happens.

I'm coming for you, Maggie.

But first, I need to talk to Dana. She might be able to help.

XXXXX

Dana talks to the director of the CIA and tells them what I have learned. They are concerned about how we know this, but Dana refuses to tell them how I know to protect Maggie. The director says there is nothing he can do and that no one will be sent after her. He says they can't afford the risk of losing the opportunity to try again if something happens. They haven't heard from Maggie directly and there is no proof they know she is with the CIA.

As Dana tells me this, I can't help but get a bit emotional. Tears build up, threatening to fall and I slam my hand into the arm of the chair. Dana, of course, maintains her cool and I know she is profiling me. Annoying.

Dana then gently says, "The FBI can't help either if it means going against the CIA who are running this op."

"But we can't just leave her there to die!" I shout.

Dana looks at me, waits for me to take a breath, and says, "I said the FBI couldn't help. But if you feel the need to take a few personal days I wouldn't be opposed."

As her words sink in I understand what she is trying to say. I can go get her. Just not as an FBI agent.

"Thank you," I say sincerely as I stand to leave her office.

"OA, wait. If you go and get caught, I can't come for you. You are on your own here," she says as she pulls her glasses off touches the ear piece to her mouth as she so often does when thinking.

I nod and am out the door.

Just over three hours later I'm on a plane headed for King Fahd Airport, not far from Dammam. I don't know what's waiting for me, I don't know what I'll find, but I know I have to try. After all, I promised I would. And I will never break a promise. Especially to Maggie.


	6. Quiet and Still

OA-

I wasn't expecting any trouble before even getting on the plane, but not ten miles from the JOC I realize I'm being followed. Immediately I feel like an idiot because in my concern for Maggie I forgot to be careful, to observe my surroundings, to use my field training. I have to find a way to keep my head clear and focused or I will be no good to myself, let alone Maggie. I immediately take action, doing everything I can to evade: taking turns at the last possible second, going through yellow lights, making lane changes, and taking side streets.

Luckily it doesn't take too long to shake the person following because I have a plane to catch. Maggie can't wait. Whoever feels the need to follow me can.

I wonder if this has anything to do with Maggie. I'm not sure who else would be trailing me, but I'm also unsure how I could have been connected back to Maggie while she's undercover. Maybe she's in more trouble than I could have guessed. Or maybe it's a trap. Maybe this Ahmad found the phone and is using it to get to me, though Maggie never would have given a code word to anyone else. Not even under torture. She's too strong for that... especially so early into her being found out.

Either way, I'm now on high alert watching for any signs of trouble as I exit toward the airport, go through security and board the plane. All go smoothly. Weird.

Michael-

I'm beyond ecstatic as I slam my gun into Maggie's face and watch her drop unconscious to the ground. It's a beautiful sight, one that I will remember for a very long time. I'm not sure why I've never liked her, but I don't. Maybe it's the way she carries herself like she knows what she's doing or her unreasonable confidence. Or that I was running errands on her behalf getting parts she needed for some weapon or another. Ahmad may have made it my job to help her, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. And come on, she just saunters into this job like she owns the place. No one is that confident from the beginning. Especially a woman. I hated her from the first moment I saw her.

Finding proof she isn't who we expected was the best possible outcome. And watching her die will be the icing on the cake.

When I get a call from one of my watchers I left in the states, I wasn't completely surprised when he told me this Omar guy was headed toward the airport. Of course he was. When Maggie confessed she loved him, I was surprised. It was dangerous to admit that. But at that moment, I knew he would come for her. I also knew at that moment I would make both their lives hell.

I sent four men to the airport to wait for and pick him up, choosing ones who would do whatever I asked of them. No matter what. I return from the office to tell Ahmad the good news: that he can watch her die and then be killed himself, a FBI agent, live for all to see.

Before I have a chance to share he tells me to call Arif, and I know instantly what's up. Instead of proceeding with the live-streamed murder, he's going to give her a polygraph first. My stomach drops knowing I haven't won yet, that there is a way for her to get out of this. I feel almost sick. For now, I won't say anything about the agent to Ahmad. I need a better handle on the situation first.

Still, I call Arif and tell him to come- _now_. He agrees, of course, and says he will leave shortly. Now all I can do is wait. Wait to see what will happen.

Maggie-

I spend every last minute I have rehearsing my story, keeping myself calm, and staying focused despite how tired I am. When Arif's face appears before me, he gives me a small smile and I take comfort in his kindness. About three weeks ago, his daughter nearly died and I helped her to a doctor not knowing who she was until after. I made more than one friend that day. Maybe that will help me now, though when Ahmad walks into the room, Arif becomes all business. His fear of Ahmad far outweighs his desire to help me. Again I'm on my own.

But I will myself to stay focused. I can do this. I have to do this.

OA-

Getting off a plane never felt so good, though it had little to do with the long flight and cramped space. I was so close to Maggie, so close to finding her.

I'm nearly running through the long hallway connecting the plane to the airport. I reach the gate, and follow signs that point me toward the exit. The airport is small and fairly empty, so it doesn't take long to make my way out of the double doors onto the street. I don't take ten steps before the first shot rings out.

I dive behind a column and do my best to take in the situation. There appears to be four shooters. Thankfully I have two weapons on me. The only thing Dana had been able to do for me before I left was make arrangements for me to be able to carry my weapons on me while on the plane. Had she not, I would have had to check them or not bring them at all. Not really an option here.

As I pull my weapon from my waist holster, another round of bullets hit the column sending a chunk into my arm. I can tell without looking it's cut into my flesh, but it's better that than a bullet. And thankfully it's my left arm. I see one target coming around a few parked cars about a hundred feet to my left. His gun is only raised halfway so I get the jump on him as I fire twice. He falls to the ground with a soft thud.

I've lost visual of two so I quickly take out the one ahead of me, thankful his shots miss, and spin around to face my right. It's too late. They are charging at me, guns up but not ready to fire. They both slam into me at the same time just a moment after I realized what they were doing. I hit the ground hard losing my breath and my gun, but know I have to fight, that I can't give up. I hit one in the face as I get a punch to the stomach. I try to focus on just one of the men, knowing if I can get one off me, I might stand the chance of getting out of here.

Somehow I get lucky and am able to get to my knees, and shove one hard into the column. I ttake that opportunity to slide away from the other man enough to get to my feet. The one I shoved comes at me again, but I crouch enough to ram him with my shoulder sending him back into the column with a sickening crack. His head connected hard enough that he leaves a small trail of blood as he slides to the floor moaning.

I turn my attention back to the other man who has his gun raised again. He speaks to me in Arabic.

"I'm not supposed to kill you," he says. "Ahmad wants you alive. But I'll killl you if I have to."

That confirms I was right. Ahmad is after me, too. I speak back harshly and no nonsense. "Where's Maggie?"

The man just chuckles, and I fight every part of me screaming to end him right then and there. But his finger is on the trigger and I don't stand a chance against a bullet without a vest or a gun of my own.

I try again. "Where's Maggie?"

"She's alive." While the smile he gives is chilling to the bone, it's his next words that really cause concern. "But not for long."

Something comes over me, filling me with rage at the thought of anyone hurting Maggie. My hands clench into fists and I get tense as I prepare to charge despite the risk, but sirens approaching quickly pull us both from the moment and I take my chance to tackle him to the ground. I hit his hand to the cement until he releases the gun and start hammering him with punches. Somehow he flips us over and starts to wail on me, but only gets in two or three good hits before I, again, flip us over and am back on top.

As the sirens gets closer, almost too close for comfort, the man stops fighting, knocked unconscious. I want to kill him, to punish him for whatever his involvement is, but Dana's words dance in my mind. "If you go and get caught, I can't come for you. You are on your own here." I have to move before the local police get here and cart me away. So I stand, grab his gun and my own, and get as far from that building as I can.

Maggie-

I don't understand why, but as I am being asked questions, Arif pauses just after he finishes the baseline questions. I'm not sure what he's doing, but he stands and walks toward me. Michael is in the room and asks Arif what he is doing, and Arif tells him something is not connected right because the baseline didn't work correctly. I'm very confused, because it seems it's hooked up right to me, but then Arif bends over so he's looking right at me as he unhooks one wire going to the machine and slides it into a velcro band connecting my arm to the machine. As he does this, his mouths, "thank you," and I realize what he's done. He disconnected enough of the machine to prevent lies from being detected, but kept enough in place that it will appear I've passed with flying colors.

I control my face because Michael is looking at us intently, but I want to cry, to reach out and hug this man I hardly know. He is saving my life and he doesn't even know why, doesn't know who I am, though he must think there is some truth to the rumors.

The rest of the test goes perfectly, of course, despite Michael becoming more and more agitated as I continue to pass. Arif asks me everything: if I work for the FBI, if I knew OA was an FBI agent, if I told him where I was going, If I love him, if I believe in and support what Ahmad is doing, and more. Everything he asks shows that I give a true response despite the many lies I tell.

As Arif finishes he sends Michael to get Ahmad. Ahmad returns to the dingy room and Arif shows him the test telling him I was completely honest. Ahmad looks surprised for just a moment before he composes himself and his normal menacing expression returns. He walks over to me and I wonder if he caught on, if he found out what happened or was watching somehow as Arif disconnected the wire. I brace for the worst, but suddenly Ahmad laughs and holds out his hand. I stare at him unsure of what he wants, but then reach out and take his hand. Michael starts to argue saying I must have beat it shomehow, but Ahmad just turns to him shouting at him to shut up and sends him out.

"You have proven to be a valuable asset," Ahmad says with his heavy accent. "I know now that I can trust you completely."

He pauses and I wonder if he's waiting for me to say something, but then he continues on.

"There's just one thing I need you to do. Today. One question you answered was if our cause was the most important thing to you. I was happy to hear that it is, and now there is a way for you to prove it as I have a task that must be completed. Follow me."

He starts walking away and I stand to follow. A few hours ago I never would have guessed this would happen and I wonder if I shouldn't have involved OA. But I know Arif and I may be found out at any moment, and depending on what I'm expected to do, I may give myself away. Is this the big plan I've been trying to discover?

We walk into an office with a table in the middle. Ahmad gestures for me to sit down at the table and I immediately comply. He grabs a folder off his desk and brings it to the table where he sits across from me.

"While Michael's anger and jealousy can be irritating, he can also prove useful." Ahmad pulls a picture out and slides it to me. I do my best not hide my shock.

"This man, Omar Zidan, has come to Saudi Arabia. I know you did not tell him you were here, but he somehow found out and decided to come- I assume for you. He is a threat to our next mission, which is far bigger than anything done before, and needs to be stopped. This is where I need you to prove your allegiance. You must kill him to protect our cause."

I can't think, can't speak. I just sit there, brain trying to comprehend what is being asked of me. There is no taunting in his voice, no sign this is just for show. He really expects OA to mess with the mission, and rightfully so. OA is a force to be reckoned with. He could single handedly take on Ahmad and his men and probably win or at least do some serious damage. He has no fear, and I wish I could tap into that now. Because I am terrified.

I know I have to say yes. If I don't, Ahmad will know I was lying. If I say no, I'll never figure out the plan that is apparently huge. I can't let that plan come to fruition. But I can't kill OA.

I can't put off answering any longer. "I-I will," I say trying to appear strong.

"I know it will be hard for you, but you have to do it," he says.

"I will," I say again, forcing myself to look and sound strong and determined.

Ahmad nods. "I'll send four men with you. They will help if you need it, and will make sure the job is finished."

I read between the lines and see the threat hidden in his words. If I don't do it, they will kill him for me. And I'll be punished...or worse.

We walk to another room with some of Ahmad's men. He calls four by name and nods toward me like they already know what is expected of them. They all make their way toward the exit that leads to the vehicles. Amham calls my name and hands me the folder.

"He took out three men and injured another at the airport before heading east. He encountered two other groups of men at a couple of the safe houses which leads me to believe he has a list of them somehow. Whoever gave him this information..." he pauses and looks at me for a moment before shaking his head as if he momentarily forgot I passed the polygraph. "Well, they sure had a lot of information to give. Check out the other two safe houses and go from there. My guess is he will be at one of them."

Then Ahmad walks away leaving me fighting with myself as I grapple with the task at hand. How do I get out of this?

As I climb into the backseat of the SUV all I can think about is how OA has no idea we are coming and what I am supposed to do. My brain tells me I have to obey orders if I want to save possibly thousands of lives. My heart says I could never never even hurt OA, let alone take his life. Even just the thought of it makes me sick.

As we approach the first of the two safe houses left, I already know he's here. There's a run down car in the driveway that doesn't belong and no one from our group should be here. Abraham turns off the vehicle, hands me a small gun, and all four men look to me waiting for direction, unsure of what I'll do.

I know they have to see it happen or they will come investigate so I have to draw OA out. Luckily, just as I step out onto the sidewalk, he appears in a window. I hear him shout my name and want to shout his, too. But I can't. I start walking to the house and make it about fifteen yards from the vehicle as OA emerges from the house. He runs toward me and I freeze knowing what I must now do.

OA wraps his arms around me and I almost lose every ounce of strength I have left, almost forget I'm supposed to kill him. I want to just run, think maybe I could. I feel OA's hesitation as he tenses up when he sees the other men slowly getting out of the SUV. He pulls away much too fast leaving me struggling for a plan.

"Maggie?" He asks, confusion written across his face.

"I'm sorry, Omar," I say just loudly enough for Abraham and the other men to hear. Then I whisper four words that only he can hear, lift my gun as his eyes widen and pull the trigger.

He goes down in a heap, a shout of pain as he tries to stop the blood. I walk closer to him and look him in the eyes, though it's the most painful thing I've ever done. Then I raise my gun, blink back tears, and pull the trigger. He recoils at the impact and goes quiet. And still.

But it works. Immediately the four are talking excitedly about the plan and how there is no one to stop us from bombing all U.S. Embassies within five hundred miles. I wipe the tears from my eyes, and the man next to me claps his hand on my back.

"For the best," he says in choppy English.

I nod and turn around just in time to see OA one last last time before he fades from view.

AN: Wow. A lot happened here, and I hope it didn't get too confusing with all the jumps in people and time. There are so many parts at play that it is hard to show what's going on. Just know, I'm doing my best and I hope you enjoy. My next chapter will hopefully be out in the next couple days... I'm on vacation so time has been limited, but the next few days should be more open. Please, please, please let me know what you think!

Special thanks to Fabiana Borges, AilanGurl, AlexCraigWrites, Whiz, and Kensijj for your review last chapter. THANK YOU!


	7. Four Words and Regret

AN: Alright, here is the next chapter. There's one or two more left in this story. This one goes back in time just a little so you can see things from OA's perspective before everything goes down. Enjoy!

OA-

I approach the fourth safe house on the list preparing for another confrontation, but see no signs of life. I'm thankful because the last two ended in firefights with more of Ahmad's men. Of course, that also means Maggie probably isn't here. Still, I have to check.

I take the opportunity after checking each room in the house to change my clothes because they got a little bloody at the last house. I also wash my face and hands in the sink upstairs.

I am about to grab my backpack off the floor as I finish drying my hands, but the sound of a vehicle approaching pulls my attention to the street in front of the house. I make my way to the window and peer outside just as the vehicle stops. A door opens and I can hardy believe my eyes when it's none other than Maggie herself. What's even better is she appears to be unharmed. We briefly make eye contact and whatever held me frozen in place dissipates allowing me to make my way down the stairs and through the front door quickly. All the worry I felt for her, wondering whether or not she was even alive or if she was hurt seemed silly as I see her before me now.

I run toward her but she seems to freeze as I get close. Still I throw my arms around her and feel her gently wrap her arms around me, too. Slowly I start to put together pieces of this strange puzzle that I didn't want to think about. Like why she got out of the back of the vehicle. She wasn't driving herself and no one got out with her so she wasn't a prisoner. And why is she so hesitant and sad? Then I see men start to get out of the car.

Finally I have to pull away enough that she is still in my outstretched arms, but I can look into her eyes. The pain I see there makes it too hard to say anything other than her name which ends up coming out as a question.

"I'm sorry, Omar," she says loudly like she wants the others to hear. At that moment I know something is terribly wrong- more than I already knew. Then she whispers four words I couldn't wrap my brain around.

"Make it look real." She is begging with her eyes, but the words don't make sense. Then she raises her gun and I feel the shock written across my face.

I hear the pop of the gun, feel the impact, but nothing is more painful than the betrayal I feel as the bullet Maggie shoots tear through me. I fall to the ground and do what I can to stop the blood that's seeping from my shoulder. Maggie walks closer to me and I become even more confused because tears are pouring down her face. So why is she raising the gun again? And why tell me to make it look real when it clearly is? All I can do is stare at her as she shoots again.

I jump at the sound and close my eyes waiting for more pain though feel nothing. Then I realize I'm the biggest fool in the world. This is Maggie we're talking about. Her words finally sink in as I understood what she meant by her words. Make it look real. So I do. I lay there, holding my breath though it's hard with the intense pain in my shoulder, eyes closed, still. From where they stand by the car, it looks like she shot me in the head after shooting me in the shoulder. No one will come to check it out. At least, I hope not.

To my relief, I hear the vehicle pull away not long after. I sit up slowly, pressing my right hand into my left shoulder trying to stop the bleeding. I can't afford to lose any more blood so I stand, doing my best to keep from falling back to the ground, and make my way back to the house where I can do my best to clean my wound.

Maggie may have shot me, but by doing so she saved my life.

Maggie-

Shooting OA was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, even if it was just a shot to the shoulder that I knew he'd survive. The only thing worse was the look in his eyes when he thought I'd gone rogue. It was just a flash, right before I pulled the trigger, but it was there. I'll never forget it.

The second hardest thing was walking away from him when all I wanted to do was help him. But I couldn't turn back, especially after this all allowed me to learn the next attack planned so quickly. Now I could get out of here, could find OA and leave. I'll report the plan to the CIA, and never have to come back here again.

Unlikely, but a nice thought. I'm sure I'm stuck helping until we end it all, though I'll be much safer with backup and protection. But how do I get out of here? I sneak my hand up my back under my jack and thumb the phone. OA. I have to call him as soon as I can.

Not more than ten minutes later, we're pulling onto the road leading back to the compound. I think about sneaking away long enough to contact my partner, but know that would look strange to Ahmad, who will want to talk to me immediately. So I lead the four men back to the office where I know Ahmad will most likely be.

"Ahmad," I announce as I enter the room.

He turns to look at me, and then carefully at the group behind me. He's checking to see if I did it or not. He nods in approval and walks to me smiling. His arms wrap around me.

"Very well done, Maggie," he says in his strong accent. "I'm so pleased to hear you were able to do the job. You will come back for the meeting where we discuss the next job. Until then, do what you please."

He's dismissed me, so I waste no time standing around. On my way out the door I hear him calling angrily for Michael. I don't know what is about to happen, but it doesn't sound good and I hope it isn't pleasant.

I make my way outside and walk to the furthest of two storage sheds. Once safely out of sight and after making sure I wasn't followed, I pull the phone out of its secret hiding spot. I can't risk speaking yet, so I type a message.

'Ok? Still pineapple. Mischief managed. Looking for out.'

I hit send, replace the phone, and lean back against the shed with a sigh. I can't be too careful with wording since the phone could still be found. I'll need plausible deniability that it's anything against them. Mischief managed comes from a movie we watched together one night with Kristen and Ian. I know he'll remember because we use the phrase occasionally after finishing a case where we pushed the boundaries a bit more than we should to get the job done. I think he will get the rest. I only hope he's fine and understands what I did and why.

After double checking that no one is coming out toward me, I remove the phone again from my pocket to see if he's responded. He has.

'Yes, you? Out how? Return to where I fell?'

I'm glad to hear he's okay. I'm not sure yet how I'm getting out, but know I'll have to go tonight if I want to get out. He wants me to return to the house where I shot him. Seems as good an idea as any. At least this way we will find each other. I quickly type a response.

'Okay, yes. Dark. Dentist joke. Yes.'

OA-

The buzz in my pocket pulls my attention from the wrap I've just finished putting on my arm. I check the screen and see a text from Maggie.

She's still in trouble. I get that from pineapple. Despite that, she's worried about me. I may have a bullet wound to the shoulder, but at least I don't have some psycho and his huge group of followers watching my every move.

Mischief managed must mean she's finished her operation. I couldn't be more excited to hear that. And she's trying to figure out how she'll get out of there. I need to know if she's okay and how she plans to get out. We also need a meeting place. I respond quickly and anxiously await her reply.

I'm relieved when I get another text saying she's fine. I only hope she's not lying. The next part references a joke I told her after a particularly hard case to try to cheer her up.

_"Hey, Mags, when's the best time to go to the dentist?" I ask her wagging my eyebrows._

_She narrows one eye slightly and raises the opposite eyebrow. _

_"A joke? Really? Are we five?" She's acting annoyed but I can already see her relaxing._

_"Come on, just guess!" I say faking a pout._

_"I don't know. What?" she asks with an eye roll._

_"Tooth-hurty. Get it? Two thirty?"_

_She scoffs, but I'm still rewarded with a smile. It's almost completely real, too._

So she'll come early this morning around 2:30. That's good. That gives me time to figure out a plan for when she arrives. I have this rusty old car I "borrowed" that we can take as far as we need to. Really, we just need to get to the airport and board a plane, any plane, to get as far from here and Ahmad as possible. Then we can worry about getting back to the U.S.

I send one more message, just one word, and then get to work.

'Careful.'

Maggie-

I hear someone coming as soon as I send that last text, so I tuck the phone away carefully and walk around the side. Thankfully it's no one particularly worrisome. I make my way back to my bunk and lay down in my bed. I feel like I haven't slept for days so I decide to take a quick nap before whatever meeting this is I'm expected to attend. It will be good to go. I'll learn the details of the attach.

I barely drift off when a noise pulls me back to a conscious state. My eyes snap open, but it's too late because a hand covers my mouth and one arm pushes down on my chest with the weight of an entire body. I instantly start to fight, scratching at his arms and face. I don't know what he wants but it can't be good. Then his head is by my ear and he's whispering to me.

"Because of you, Ahmad no longer trusts me. But I'm onto you and I'll promise you this: I'll kill you. I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do. I'll wait until you least expect it. Right when you think you're safe, that's when I'll find you. You're dead."

Then Michael's gone.

XxXxXxXxX

The meeting takes place just as the sun is starting to set. I couldn't have planned it better myself. After the confrontation with Michael, I made sure to have everything ready to go so I could take off right after the meeting. I stashed a backpack behind the shed with everything I need. Everything I have.

The meeting provides more detail than I ever could have guessed. Apparently every U.S. Embassy and Consulate within five hundred miles of here are going to be targeted with the guns we bought in New York, along with bombs and some other weapons. They will first capture some higher level officials to use for live executions to display how dangerous they can be. After that, they will move to the states with their practiced and perfect strategies, hitting as many important places as possible starting with the White House. Those are some big plans, but for some reason I feel like they can make anything happen.

We were given our teams and target and told our travels to the locations begin at dawn. I notice Michael isn't here. He must not get a team. He must be in more trouble than I realized. Good.

When the meeting ends it's nearly midnight. I guess it will take me about two hours to walk to the safe house where OA is waiting for me. I don't want to wait any longer so I head for the door to get my bag. I'm just about to the door when I hear my name being called. It's Ahmad. He's beckoning me closer.

I walk over to him and he grabs my arms near the shoulder tightly in his hands.

"You are dependable and care about our cause. After tomorrow, you will come back to me and stay with me." The way he's looking at me gives me the chills. "You are beautiful and will have beautiful sons to take over for me when I'm old."

I want nothing more than to laugh at him and this preposterous proposal, but I know I can't refuse, so I just nod.

"Anything for you and our cause," I reply as careful as possible to seem pleased and honored.

He nods and says, "Go. Prepare for tomorrow. A day of victory!"

He turns back toward the table and his map of locations so I make my way out of the building and toward my hidden bag. I get to the shed and move away the plywood I used to cover it, but to my surprise, it's not there. I let go of the plywood and turn to look for it when I'm whacked in the back of the head. I fall to the ground but roll to the side as another blow lands where I had just been. I glance up and it's Michael with my bag.

"I knew it," he sneers. "Leaving so soon?" He pulls out a knife and throws my bag behind him. He slowly moves toward me pushing me back closer and closer to the side of the shed. I know if I don't make a move now, I'll be forced against the building and will have a much harder time getting away.

I fake a lunge to the left and, as he slashed his knife in the air, I take off to the right, running as hard as I can knowing my bag is a lost cause. I can hear him following and when he realizes I'm faster than him, he starts yelling, announcing that I'm trying to flee. Member of the terrorist cell start pouring out of buildings and start to follow me trying to catch me. I know I won't make it at this rate, especially as Ahmad appears and yells for them to get me no matter what.

I cut through a few prickly bushes, feeling thorns cut my exposed skin as I run, and head for a run down truck outside a small hut. The door opens much to my relief, and I climb inside. I send a silent prayer when the key is in the ignition and the engine turns over on the first try. A few men are closing in so I throw the vehicle into drive and press down as hard as I can on the gas. The vehicle launches forward, hitting two men hard. They go down as the truck moves forward.

I take off in one direction, lights on trying to make myself seen. I see a few other headlights turn on in my rear view mirror as terrorists begin to follow me. Suddenly, when I know I should be out of range, I turn off my headlights, make a hard turn to my right and hope they will continue in the direction I was originally headed instead of where I'm now going toward the safe house.

OA-

I hear a vehicle approaching shortly after midnight. I'm not sure what to expect, so I sneaked a look through the window and see just one person exit, though I can't tell who it is in the pitch black. I pull my gun and walk to the top on the stairs pointing it toward the door at the bottom.

The door slowly opens and I hear the smallest whisper.

"OA?"

"Maggie!" I make my way down the stairs as quickly as I can in the dark. I nearly knock her over as I run into her, but geab her in my arms to keep her steady.

She wraps her arms around my back and her face presses against the crook on my neck.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers quietly. Then I feel her start to shake and shudder, and I know she's silently crying.

I can only make out her outline, but I cover her cheeks with my hands and rest my forehead against hers. Then I tilt my head so my lips gently touch hers. She deepens the kiss immediately. It's rough and full of need, but it stops almost as soon as it starts and her hands are on my chest to keep me separated.

"I shot you!" she says.

"You saved me," I whisper, trying to pull her back into an embrace. She fights against me.

"I. Shot. You," she says again.

I sigh. How can she doubt herself so much?

"Were you sent to kill me?" I ask.

She pauses before answering. "Yes."

"Would those men have killed me if you didn't?"

"She hesitates again. "Yes."

"Did you actually kill me?" I ask again, still just barely above a whisper.

"Well, no, but-" she starts, but I cut her off.

"No, you didn't. And they thought you did. You. _Saved_. Me." I'll tell her over and over until she believes it. Forever, if I have to.

I hear a quiet sob and I wrap my arms around her again. This time she lets me, melting into me.

"You did what you had to do. I know that. And no matter what happened, or what happens next, you need to know that I, well, I love you. Okay?"

She freezes in my arms at my confession, but then she sighs in relief and I feel her nod against my chest.

"Let's go home," I say.

She nods again. I pull away, but keep hold of her hand. We leave the house, get into the vehicle I used, and we head for the airport.

Maggie doesn't say a single word for the first five minutes or so of the drive, but holds onto my hand tightly. Not that I mind. But suddenly, I feel her go tense.

"They caught me trying to leave. We can't go to the airport. They will look there, are probably closer to it than we are. There's a US Embassy four hours from here if you take 80 southwest. We should go there. We need to warn them about the attack Ahmad's planning and maybe they can help us."

She seems focused and determined, though I can tell she is still worried and feeling guilty about what happened. I quickly turn the car around and head for highway 80.

"Tell me about it," I say to her, needing to hear her talk. She starts to share, sharing every moment of her time. All the things she saw, did, witnessed. She talked about it all. And with each passing moment, I liked this place less and less and need her more and more. I just want to get her home.

AN: A huge thank you to Fabiana, Kensi jj, AilanGurl, jotchLIFE, and Whiz for reviewing last chapter. I'm sorry for any heartbreak last chapter caused, but hopefully this chapter makes up for it? Plot twists: I can't help them. Let me know what you thought!

Also, just in case you missed it and are interested, I added a second chapter to my story Hopefully Never even though I intended on it just being a one shot. And to those of you who checked it out and let me know what you think, you are amazing!


	8. For Dear Life

We arrive at the Embassy just ten minutes ahead of schedule. I'm exhausted, but too wired to sleep, unable to comprehend the last six hours and all that has happened. The building in front of us is small, just a one story, partially rundown building. The only sign the building is even used is the light coming from a few windows and two cars in the lot. Granted, it is only 4:30 in the morning.

I'm dying to get out of the car and, at the same time, terrified to move. But I know Ahmad is not here. He can't do anything to me, not now. I'm pulled from my thoughts when I hear OA clear his throat.

"Maggie?" he asks, voice full of concern.

"Yeah?"

"I asked if you are ready to go in?"

I nod, and open my door. I need a phone that can call the CIA. The one OA gave me probably saved my life, but it's useless now that we are together. They only connect with each other. And we need to let everyone know about this terrible plan Ahmad has formed.

We reach the door and press the security button. A deep, intimidating voice demands we show proof of US residency. We both hold up our passports to a small security camera waiting not more than ten seconds before we hear the door buzz and can push it open.

Immediately to our left is a standing desk where a security guard sits, a cup of still steaming coffee in his hand. He puts a clipboard down in front of us and holds out a pen. I take the pen from him and start filling in the lines that ask for my basic information. Name, date, date of birth, state of residency, etc. this seems so mundane and time consuming, but I speak the whole time I fill it out explaining who I am, that I work for the CIA and FBI and warn him of the plan.

He doesn't even need to hear it all before he is grabbing a phone from another desk behind him and hands it to me. I dial the number I had to memorize as the guard gets on his phone, no doubt following his own chain of command.

Two rings in, my contact answers.

"Agent Wallace," she says quickly.

"Shelby, it's Maggie."

I don't need to say anymore before she's jumping into action.

"Hold on, Maggie. I'm getting my director. Are you okay?"

I don't know what to say, so I tell her I'm fine.

"Okay Maggie, I have my director here. What's going on?"

I just sigh before telling her the latest part of the story starting with the weapons we bought in New York, the people who are involved, their plan to bomb the US buildings, what will come after and that I got away. I don't mention OA with her director listening knowing OA shouldn't be here in the first place.

As I explain, words are fired at me asking clarifying questions and asking for more details. I give everything I can think of and start to get annoyed when I find I'm answering the same questions over and over even though I know they are just trying to make sure I don't accidentally leave anything out. Still, it's exhausting.

As the questions stop, I hear more directions being fired by the director to someone other than Shelby who is talking to me again.

"Maggie, we are sending agents from anywhere close enough to make it in time. We also have a black ops military team about three hours out. It will be tight, leaving only two or so hours before the attack is scheduled to begin, but we think it will work, that it will be enough."

I sigh in relief, glad to hear it's almost over.

"We are coming for you, Maggie. We're bringing you home,"

"Shelby, am I on speaker?" I ask knowing I need to warn her about OA.

"No, not anymore. What's wrong?"

"It's OA. He's here."

"What do you mean? How did he..." buy she suddenly trails off. I hear a deep sigh and a few moments of silence. "Okay," she continues. "I'll figure something out. I'll call you when I get an update. And Maggie? Be careful."

When I get off the phone there are two more people talking with OA and the guard. I'm surprised to see it's 6:30. I turn toward OA, wanting to update him, but I stop dead in my tracks when I see a small stain of red beginning to peak through his shirt at his shoulder. The moment I shot him comes flooding back and I get a little dizzy. I feel the squeeze of the trigger and hear his grunt of pain as his shocked eyes lock onto me.

The moment becomes too much and I know I'm going to vomit. I make eye contact with OA just as I whirl around and run for the bathroom. I barely make it in time. I'm so tired and worked up that I can't help but sink to the floor. I hardly notice the bathroom door open and don't realize it's him until he's in front of me.

"You okay, Mags?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

That's good because I can't speak. I just stare at the spot on his shoulder slowly growing. He follows my gaze and quickly covers the blood with his hand when he realizes that's the problem. Except the real problem is me and he can't cover me up so easily.

"Maggie, I told you I'm fine," he says trying to convince me. I just scoff at him and roll my eyes hoping he'll give up and either walk away or realize I'm right.

But, of course, he doesn't. He places his hand on my chin gently and turns my face so I'm looking at him.

"Maggie. I. Am. Fine."

He's begging me to believe him so I just give a quick nod and let him help me up. I'm still a little light headed, but I steady myself on the wall as OA unbuttons and slides off his shirt to look at the wound.

He's right. It's not nearly as bad as I was expecting. My shot was about as perfect as it could have possibly been. I just grazed him. It's deep enough that it caused him to go down and it probably hurts like a bitch, but it didn't do any serious damage though it doesn't look great. It needs to be cleaned and dressed.

"At least let me help you," I say as I force myself to at least momentarily forget I caused the damage.

He looks at me as if trying to decide if it's a good idea, not because he doesn't trust me but because he doesn't want to hurt me or make me feel worse.

How's that for funny? I shoot him and he's worried about hurting me. Insert eye roll here.

I just purse my lips and stare at him until he nods. I look under the sink, searching through the cabinet for medical supplies. I find a first aid kit an pull it out, set it on the floor, and open it up. I dig around until I find some gauze, some peroxide, and some stick on sutures.

OA just watches as I work. I open the bottle of peroxide and pull his arm over the sink. He lets out a short, muffled moan as the liquid hits his wound. It's already bleeding so the peroxide won't hurt him any and the wound doesn't look clean. There's a small sliver of fabric embedded in the wound so I grab a tweezers out of the kit and pluck it out as gently as I can. Then I grab the sutures and have him hand them to me one at a time until he has enough to hold his wound closed. I wrap his wound in gauze and tie it to hold it all in place. Satisfied, I lightly brush the gauze with my hand and nod at him.

"Your turn," he says matter of fact.

"OA, don't be silly. I'm not hurt," I respond, confused by his words.

He looks at me quizzically before grabbing my shoulders and turning me so I am looking in the mirror. I'm more surprised by my reflection than I would have guessed. There's a nice bruise and gash on the top of my forehead partially in my hairline that must be from the gun Michael hit me with on the plane. Could that really have only been two days ago? It feels like I lifetime.

I also have many scratches on my face and arms from what happened between the plane and running away from Ahmad and his men. My eyes have dark circles under them from such little sleep and I am extremely pale. My wrists are rubbed raw and irritated from the restraints before the polygraph. I really do look pretty bad.

I don't know what to say so I just let OA take over. He pats the counter near the sink like he wants me to sit there, so I slide up. He cleans each cut carefully, gently working his way from my arms to my face. As he is cleaning the cut in my hair, his thumb runs mindlessly back and forth across my forehead. I close my eyes because, despite the sting of the peroxide in the gash, his touch is instantly relaxing.

I keep my eyes closed as he looks at my wrists. There's not much to be done for them either, but he still does all he can. I lean my head forward and rest it on OA's good shoulder. He sets my hands in my lap and steps forward so he can wrap his arms around me carefully.

"Maggie," he whispers in my ear, "it's not your fault. You did what you had to do and put your life on the line so you could save me. I wish you could see how amazing that is. I'll never blame you. Ever."

I don't know what to say so I just stay wrapped up in him. I find that every time he says it, I believe him a little more. I reach up and gently rest my hand on his wrapped shoulder and then lift that hand to his cheek.

He smiles at me and I can't help but give a small smile in return.

There's a knock on the door, pulling us from the moment a little too soon. I slide off the counter and open the door. It's one of the embassy workers.

"There's an Agent Wallace on the phone for you."

She smiles at us and holds the door as we head toward the front desk.

XxXxXxXxX

Shelby tells us we should make our way to a field about thirty minutes from our location where we will be picked up by a pair of agents who are nearby trying to turn an asset. They will meet us there and take us to a safe house. From there, the black ops team will pick us up and bring us home after they finish taking out all the terrorist teams involved in the planned attack.

It seems too good to be true that we don't have to be involved. I've had enough Ahmad for a few lifetimes.

We have about thirty minutes until we need to leave which will give us just enough time to get to the field to meet up with the other agents. Because there is an attack scheduled for this embassy, all eight people here will be coming with us. OA and I will protect them until there is no longer a threat to their lives.

Despite the run down feel of the building, there is a lot of activity already this morning. The Ambassador is running the show, helping to tie up loose ends before we leave while his three guard and four other employees pack up the necessary things they can't leave behind. I didn't realize until now that the woman who got us from the bathroom is the Ambassador's deputy chief, Gwen. She is our point person and gives us the information we need on the building, the people here and the different political pieces currently in play.

With about two minutes to spare, we grab the materials gathered, and head for our vehicles. With the way Ahmad's plan was set, we have plenty of time before the team of terrorists arrive, but I can't help but feel like we are out in the open as we crowd into two vehicles.

OA and I are the last two outside. The last thing I want to do is separate, but I know we need to so we can keep everyone safe.

"Which one?" I ask, gesturing to both vehicles.

He purses his lips and I can tell he's not happy about it either.

"I'll take the front."

After a quick hug, he's gone.

OA-

The best thing we can do for these people we are in charge of protecting is split up. We need to make sure someone is in each car in case something happens to one of the vehicles. I give Maggie a hug, but it only lasts a few seconds, because any longer and I might have decided I don't care about being the best agent if I can't protect her. But I know it's what we need to do, what we have to do if we will ever be allowed to stay partners after this. There has to be some sort of separation between personal life and work. Even if this whole job is work. It's different now with her.

So I let go and get into the front vehicle. The ambassador is with me while his deputy is with Maggie. Another just-in-case scenario.

The drive is mostly quiet with a few questions scattered haphazardly throughout the drive about what is going on. We make it to the field first, not even seeing any dust rising showing signs of an approaching vehicle.

It feels too exposed for my liking and I start to get nervous. Just as I am about to get out and check in with Maggie, I see a car driving in our direction. It stops about fifty meters from us and the front doors open. Two men exit and start walking toward us. I open the driver's door and stand, gun in hand.

"I'm Agent Evan Matthews, and this is Agent Mateo DeMars. You must be Agent Zidan?"

I reach out my hand after returning my weapon to its holster to shake his hand as I introduce myself. "OA," I say. I hear Maggie approaching from behind and turn toward her as she reaches my side.

"Maggie Bell," she says as she shakes their hands. "What's the plan?"

Evan explains we will head toward the safe house and wait there. Once there is no longer a threat, they will accompany the Embassy employees back and we will leave with the Black Ops team like originally planned to go home.

Home. It can't come soon enough.

We climb back into our respective vehicles and take off due south toward the safe house.

Maggie-

The safe house is nothing like I expect, though I guess I didn't even think about it much on the way. It's small, uncomfortably small even, for so many people. But it will do just fine, of course.

About an hour in, DeMars gets a phone call. He and Matthews talk for a minute off to the side and then come to the table where OA and I are sitting as we talk about home.

"Something came up with an asset and I have to go," DeMars explains, "but Evan will stay here with you. I'll be back as soon as I can."

I nod though I can't help but think splitting up isn't the best idea. I'm just glad it's not OA and me who are needing to part ways.

As if a foreshadowing of the future, not twenty minutes after DeMars leaves, Matthews gets a call. This time it's from Shelby. And it's not good news.

Apparently Ahmad and two of his most trusted men escaped from the compound as the ops team came cruising in. They are headed for another compound, but the team's primary focus is the bombs so no one is available to go after Ahmad. Hence the phone call. Shelby wants us to go after Ahmad leaving one agent behind with the others.

Evan tells her Mateo had to leave which means only two of us can go. She isn't as happy with the odds but still, we need to try. He hangs up with Shelby and looks at us.

"I don't suppose you want to split up?"

OA and I look at each other for the smallest fraction of a moment before we are shaking our heads and voicing our thoughts.

"Not a chance," OA says no nonsense.

"Okay," Evan says with a nod. "You two will go after him. I have some weapons and other gear I can give you. I just hope it's enough."

He provides us two guns which puts our total at four. I take both from Evan because OA has both of his already strapped and ready to go. Evan also has one vest and a couple other things that will come in handy including a phone that will allow us to contact him, Shelby or anyone else.

Climbing into the car was a quiet occasion and the drive starts off just as quiet. What do you say when you are about to face the man who started all this, the man who went from wanting you to have his children to trying to kill you in less than ten minuets.

The closer we get to this compound, the more uneasy and agitated I become. I try my best to convince myself this is just like any other mission I've been on with OA, but I know that's not true. We've never been alone, never been facing such terrible odds. I'm exhausted, OA's shot. We are quite the sight right now. But we don't have a choice.

Just over an hour after leaving the safehouse, and about ten minutes away from our destination, I can't stay quiet any longer.

"You need to wear the vest," I say, starting a fight I didn't want to have.

"Maggie, you have to wear it. That's the only option."

"No, OA."

"There's no way I'm going to wear it when you could get shot-," he starts but I interrupt angrily.

"Damn it OA. I didn't just watch you get shot, I had to shoot you! And it's all I can see! So you're going to wear the god damn vest because I can't handle watching you get shot again..." I trail off because there's nothing more to say and my anger is already gone.

He sighs loudly, obviously debating internally whether or not he should continue to argue, but he doesn't which is good because I have no more energy to talk about it and might have given in. He nods, but I can tell he doesn't like it.

Slowly, he pulls the car off the road and into a group of trees beside the road. We are very close and will walk from here. We don't want to give away our position or that we are even here.

Luckily, it doesn't appear that anyone else is here other than the three men which aligns with what Shelby said. That significantly helps our odds of getting out alive.

We quietly make our way to the edge of the compound, reaching the first building. We open the door without making a sound and enter to clear it.

Building one is empty.

The next building is about one hundred meters away. That one is also empty. Two more buildings lay in front of us. Both are close together and could give away our position if we choose the wrong one. We have to each pick one.

"I don't like this," OA whispers to me.

I bite my lip, feeling very much the same way, and I just can't decide if it's worth the risk. But we do it anyway.

I take the building to the left, he takes the right. We stand outside the doors and he motions a countdown from three. We enter our buildings at the same time, guns raised, ready for anything.

The first room is clear, but I hear men talking. I walk quietly to the hallway toward the next room.

I peak in and see at least two of the three men, leaving Ahmad either hidden or unaccounted for. I walk in, shooting at both and taking them down. I search the room but see nothing, when I hear a loud pop and feel a strong shove and a searing pain in my side. It takes me a minute to realize the shove was OA pushing me out of the way. I didn't even hear him come in the room with me, but am glad he did because I think he pushed me enough out of the way that the bullet only clipped me a little. He must have seem Ahmad and acted just in time.

He takes off through the doorway to the adjoining room when Ahmad shot from. I stand as quickly as I can and follow, hearing more gunshots on the way.

OA is hiding behind a counter reloading his gun. There's a good two meter space between the doorway where I'm hiding to him. A space too far to jump without risk of another bullet. I quickly peek around the doorway and see Ahmad dart out around the corner to get off a couple shots in OA's direction. I shoot twice, but miss and take cover behind my corner. OA and I lock eyes. We hear a couple shots and, as soon as Ahmad's shots stop, we nod and shoot. I hear a bullet hit him as he cries out, but he starts shooting again.

I pop around the corner again and take a few more shots. One hits Ahmad. Right in the head. Ahmad goes down and I quickly make my way over to him,

OA following behind. I kick the gun from Ahmad, who lays gasping for breath.

"Have your babies my ass," I say as he takes his last breath. I turn to look at OA and scream because Shelby was wrong. There isn't three men, there are four and the fourth man gets off a shot before I completely register he's there. That shot slams into OA knocking him off his feet. I take the man out with two shots, the second of which hits him somewhere between the eyes.

I scream OA's name as I run to him, but I see he's okay. The bullet hit his vest. The vest he almost didn't wear. Stuck in agent mode, I clear the rest of the building quickly. Upon seeing no one else, I return to OA who is now leaning against wall still trying to get his breathing back under control.

I sit next to him, nearly on top of him, and put my head on his shoulder.

"I don't know what will be worse," he manages to grunt out.

I look at him quizzically as he catches his breath to mutter the next few words.

"The bruised ribs I'm sure to have or hearing how you were right for the next decade."

I can't help but laugh despite it all.

"Well, I was right to make you wear the vest. I can't let you forget it," I say matter-of-fact with a shrug.

I just grab his hand and hold it for dear life.

"And what was that about babies?" he asks confused by my last words to Ahmad.

Again, I just smile.

AN: thanks so much to Fabiana, jotchLIFE, Meg54, Whiz, Kensi jj, and AilanGurl for reviewing lest chapter! You keep me going even though this story is a tough one to write! There will be one more chapter, probably pretty short to finish this story off. These two have had such a hard adventure (just like always I suppose) and deserve to get home soon.

You rock! Thanks to all of you for reading and sticking with me!


	9. Never Enough

AN: A huge thanks to judithya88, fabiana, Kensijj, jotchLIFE, and the guests for reviewing. Thanks for making my day and motivating me when I was feeling stuck! Also, a warning... I didn't do any editing.

Enjoy!

Maggie-

I'm not sure how long we end up sitting here until OA got his breathing under control and I nearly stop the bleeding from the graze in my side I got from Ahmad. My gun never leaves my hand, and no one else is here, but I still have to try to hide my jump and concern at every little noise. OA notices like always but remains silent.

I dial Matthews' number and he answers first ring.

"Agent Bell?"

"Yes, it's me. We got Ahmad. What's the address of the safe house?"

"Actually, a few members from the Black Ops team are coming for you now. Stay put; they'll be there soon."

I can't hold back a sigh at the thought.

"It's over?" I ask hesitantly.

"Just about. The rest of the team have one more team to stop. But essentially, yes, it's over." He sounds relieved, too.

At his words, my hand holding the phone slides down my cheek a little and I lean into OA who had walked up to me. He wraps his arms around me, and I start to let myself believe we are both going to be okay. That everything is going to be fine.

"Thanks," I say just before I hang up the phone.

I stand there, being comforted by OA, loving the feel of him here with me. I think about having to do this on my own had I not gotten OA involved, and I'm not convinced I would have made it. Maybe. Maybe not.

I hear a large vehicle approach and I tense, ready to fight, but's it's just the team sent to get us. They announce their presence and I put away my gun. One comes into the room we are in and tells us to follow him. I try not to let it bother me that for a split second the man's gun went to OA and hesitated just a moment too long for my liking. I scowl, but it goes unnoticed.

We get outside and are ushered into the vehicle. I can't really believe it's over- at least, until we are safely on a plane hours later headed for home.

XxXxXxX

Words can't explain how good it feel to step through the door to my apartment, my real one. The one I haven't been in for over three months. Everything is exactly how I left it, further proof that it's all over. No one has been here, no one found out where I live and is waiting to get me.

I tell OA I'm going to shower and change as I head back to my room. Once inside I see that things aren't exactly as I left them, because the floorboard is still up and the folder part of the file I left for OA to find remains on the floor. I close my eyes, again caught off guard by the thought of how lucky I am that he was there, that he came. After all the lies and thinking I was dead. He came.

The floor creaks behind me and I whirl around ready to fight. But it's just OA. I sigh and try to compose myself, but he's not fooled. He steps forward and pulls me into him.

"I'm sorry I startled you," he whispers.

I want to lie, tell him he didn't, but it's pointless and unnecessary now, so I just nod.

"It's over," he says quietly. "You don't have to be afraid. Not anymore."

I reach up and brush his cheek with my hand. He smiles at me genuinely. He cups my cheeks and his lips graze mine gently. I deepen the kiss, pulling him against me because amy space between us is too much for my liking.

He backs us up until we run into the wall. The light switch is there and it digs into my back, but I hardly notice. I wrap my arms around his neck and enjoy the feeling of his tongue against mine.

My hands snake down and under the the hem of his shirt to rest on his stomach. I want more contact, so I raise his shirt up and he helps me pull it over his head before he is pulling off mine.

I push him toward the bed and our kiss breaks and he falls down onto the soft comforter. I am about to follow when I freeze. He grabs my hand trying to pull me down with him, but I back away. I see eyes flicker between mine and his eyebrows raise just slightly in confusion.

Tears well up in my eyes as I back away further. OA looks down to see what I had also just noticed. The deep black and purple mark across his ribs from the shot to the chest the day before at the hands of Ahmad's third man. My eyes drift up to his shoulder which is still wrapped from where I shot him the day before that.

"Maggie, listen, it's okay. I'm okay. Really, I didn't even notice."

He sounds genuine, but it doesn't matter. He stands by the foot of the bed and takes a few steps forward closing the gap between us.

"I did that to you. Not only once, but twice you nearly died because of me." My voice is a mere whisper and I wonder if I make any sound at all, but I must because he answers me.

"Maggie, we talked about him this. You shot me to save me-." I interrupt before he can finish.

"I wouldn't have needed to shoot you if I didn't involve you in the first place!" I'm loud now. So loud it almost hurts my head, but it's still barely more than my normal voice level.

"I made you promise to involve me! I gave you the phone!"

He's begging me to listen, to trust him. But it's so hard with his injuries.

Something changes in his eyes and I think he is giving up, but he sits down and pulls his shirt back on before patting the bed next to him. I comply and sit.

"Mags, do you remember a few years ago I tried to lie to you about something that bothered me? I told you I was fine, but you didn't believe me. Do you remember what you said?"

Suddenly that moment comes rushing back. It fills ever part of my mind as I relive the moment. Our eyes connect, and I nod.

"You said that I was a terrible liar. That you could see the truth in my eyes. So, Maggie, look in my eyes. Am I lying when I say I don't blame you?"

I stare at him for I don't know how long trying to find any part of him that is lying, any part of him that may blame me for even a small part of what happened. But no matter how long I look, I don't see any blame at all. I just see... love. Patience. Understanding. No blame or judgment or mistrust of any kind.

And for just one, tiny fraction of a moment, I understand completely what he's saying because In his eyes I can see our roles reversed and know I wouldn't blame any part of him either.

And it's crazy, but something happens in that tiny fraction of a moment because all fear dissipates. All doubts and worries. Even the part of me that reminds the rest of me to be cautious or careful is silent allowing to truly let go of what happened, not to forget, but to move on from. And everything else, all of the important things become so clear.

I kiss OA again, more passion between us than anything I have experienced prior. It floods every part of us and builds until we aren't even acting on our own accord, just letting the moment lead.

I pull his shirt back over his head. I can feel his hesitation, so I look into his eyes and nod. Then my gaze returns to his chest. My fingers gently slide across the bruise as I outline it and my eyes flicker back to OA who is just watching me curiously. Then I gently press my lips to the middle of the bruise sending a quick and silent thank you to whomever might be listening because he was wearing that vest.

OA's hand comes up to caress my cheek and I lean into him.

"You continue to amaze me, just a little bit more every single day," he says to me as he hugs me close.

And I know that tomorrow, when that part of me returns, warning me to be careful and cautious, it will all be okay. Because being in love isn't about not being afraid or worried or absolutely terrified. It's about trusting that, despite those things, we will be okay- more than okay. Because bruises heal and memories fade. Pain resides and brokenness mends. And if nothing else, this whole terrible ordeal has taught me so much, given me more than I could have ever expected. I learned about how strong and capable I am, how resourceful and dedicated as I bravely faced each scenario. And it gave me OA.

As far as I'm concerned, the time I'll get to spend with OA will never be enough, but I'll do my best to make it count.

"So, how about that shower?" he asks wagging his eyebrows at me.

I just smile and roll my eyes as I grab his hand and lead him to the shower.

Because never enough starts right now.

AN: I think this is where this story ends. I've said this before, but this was a tricky one. Hopefully you are satisfied with the ending.

Also, was anyone else completely disappointed with this last episode? I was hoping it would have a least a little more Maggie and OA. I'm sure it will be a great show, but a little more of the FBI cast would have been nice, especially since it's not a new

Episode next week. At least we get a season two.

Anyway, let me know what you think and thank you so much to all of you who stuck with me and read it all. You are so, so wonderful! Stay tuned for my next story which is already in the works.


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